wake up, wake up, wake up

matty asked you to take him to your favourite spot in the city and you didn’t even have to think twice about it. the old, dimly lit bar was pretty much your second home by now. you come here so often that the entire staff knows you by name making you feel somewhat embarrassed when you think about it too hard. but what the hell. it’s nice to be a regular somewhere. each night you walk through those heavy, glass doors, it’s impossible not to smile at the familiarity of the cozy space–the overwhelming amount of bottles decorating the bar, the couples sitting around the obnoxiously small tables, the smells of those ridiculously delicious potatoes. it’s all a delight. you enter and it honestly feels like everything else just fades away. and tonight’s all the same.

“sooo…did i get my days mixed up or is it friday already?”

you can’t help but grin at the sound of that deep voice, walking over and leaning across the bar to place a single peck on the bartender’s cheek. “always so excited to see me, aren’t you?” then you carefully hop onto the stool where you’ve sat countless evenings prior.

alex is the one who mixes your perfect negroni every time. and he’s also the boy you tried to date when you moved to the city. it didn’t work out in the end, but there was no denying there is some sort of connection between the two of you, even if it’s just a platonic one. it felt like a shame to just let that go to waste, so that’s why now he’s one of your closest friends.

“‘m not complaining. it’s been kind of a slow night so far. the company will be nice.” he picks up the fanciest bottle of gin to prepare your usual, watching as he effortlessly pours the spirit into the pretty crystal tumbler reserved just for you.

with a drink in hand–perfectly bitter, as always–you catch up the past few days, alex telling you about his upcoming gig and such before the door opens again, the all-too-familiar sound of those keys making you instantly spin around on your seat.

“hi ma–”

okay… this is new.

you’re used to him arriving at your door step in cargo pants, collared work shirts and worn out baseball caps, so seeing him stand before you, in well fitted sage jeans, a long, plaid coat and his dark curls somewhat styled, was, for lack of a better word, surreal.

not a bad thing at all. just not what you expected.

the sight causes your cheeks to instantly grow warm, even more so as he removes the wool jacket to reveal a faded graphic tee underneath, maybe almost too small for him but who cares. the way it frames his shoulders and shows off the arm tattoos you’ve committed to memory by now…

yeah, pretty much unreal.

seemingly you don’t even notice when your teeth find your bottom lip, but he definitely does. and the bastard knows why. wasn’t rocket science figuring it out by the way you examine him up and down as your gaze finally meets those warm chocolate eyes, only for him to grin and wink in return.

your breath hitches and you quickly turn back to the bar. thank god for this cocktail. you down half of it in one go, peering over the glass as alex smirks down at you, because he now knows the exact reason why you’re here on a tuesday night after all.

doesn’t take long for you to feel a steady hand on the small of your back before he leans in to kiss your temple. “hi sweet,” the pet name so lovely against your ear you could melt right then and there.

“um… hello.”

“really? you make me freeze my ass off and that’s all i get?” he clicks his tongue, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you close into a cozy hug, bending over to kiss you again, only on the cheek this time. “don’t make me regret it.”

the only thing you regret right about now is the fact that there’s no possible way for you to not get overly flustered, palms sweaty and heart already beating double time. you signed up for it the second you decided to fall head over heels for the biggest flirt and tease you’ve ever met. secretly, you adore the attention, but it’s still all too easy for him to make you not think straight.

“you look rather lovely, by the way,” he notes, “but guess that’s to be expected.” 

absolutely, totally not fair.

“‘m guessing you’re matty, then.” you turn in time to notice your mailman’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion as he takes the seat next to yours, inquiring gaze shifting from the bartender over to you.

you finally come back to reality as a bit of your cocktail spills down your lip. “fuck, sorry.” of course all eyes are on you as you lick it clean. “matty, this is alex,” nodding towards the black haired man behind the bar. “alexander, matty.” 

“nice to see you around here, man.” you observe intently as they shake hands, “‘ve heard quite a lot about you the past few months.”

matty crosses his arms to study you, teasingly but not a bit less disarming. “really, now. months…” maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all. “hopefully nothing too damning just yet.”

for fuck’s sake.

he couldn’t go one single minute without being, well, his own matty healy self. and to make matters worse, you now find yourself holding an empty glass. not even a single ice cube to chew on.

lucky for you, three years later and alex knows you well enough to sense that some liquid courage might ease your nerves, so when another drink comes your way–thank fucking god–served alongside the smokey old fashioned matty ordered. you never thought of him as a whiskey type of man as you usually see him with a tall can, but you don’t mind being surprised. just makes you wonder what else you might not know yet...

“so how’d you two know each other?” matty points between you and the bartender. there’s no use in pretending so you share that you’d tried to date but it didn’t really go anywhere. 

“don’t think i was ever good enough. she has pretty high expectations to be honest. so good luck.” 

your eyes narrow as you flip him off but alex doesn’t even notice because he’s already busy slicing up some limes. "pretty sure it was the other way around," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear even if he wasn’t paying attention.

he raises his arms in mock surrender, “whatever you say.” alex tops off both your waters, shooting you a quick smile before excusing himself as the room starts to finally fill up with the dinner crowd.

leaving you alone with him. 

“so…” his voice makes you turn to catch matty swaying his drink, elbow sliding against the bar as he props his chin in his hand. those dreamy caramel irises study you as he takes a torturously slow sip. “think ‘m cool enough for you or what?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes dramatically, mumbling a half hearted “fuck off” as you pretend to ponder excessively about it, not muttering another word until his hand finds yours across the bar, leaving you no choice but to smirk in return.

“perhaps, yeah,” and you interlace your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“‘atta girl.”

and for the second time in the past half hour, you find yourself spilling alcohol down your chin once more.

the minutes pass and part of you still doesn’t know what to expect. yes, you’d been on dates prior but that was mostly at cafes and concerts. not a somewhat intimate place where everyone else around seems to be in a similar predicament as you. 

you're here on a date with the gorgeous man you've admired for four, five months now. sure, he can be upfront and sassy. quite strange, even. but you adore matty, so you want to keep your shit together. but honestly that proves to be difficult, especially in the middle of the conversation when you get lost watching him drink, his mouth all wet and glossy from licking the sticky residue off his lips.

“y’know it’s rude to stare, right?”

your face drops straight into your hands. "i hate you," you mumble into your palms with no conviction whatsoever, letting out an over pronounced sigh before dragging up your fingers through your hair. 

“nah, i don’t think you do,” he takes one last sip, quietly sucking on an ice cube which doesn’t exactly help your case. “come ‘ere,” he motions you over and you instinctively follow, his fingertips softly fixing up your hair which you must’ve accidentally ruffled.

“there,” he tucks a strand behind your ear as he genuinely smiles this time. “pretty girl.”  

—

a couple hours and a lovely dinner later, you step out and to no one’s surprise, it’s colder than before, the frigid air biting at your skin. but you know for sure you’re not alone anymore. when you glance up, the stars are shimmering in the distance, twinkling bright and you send a quiet thank you to every single one just as matty walks out to join at your side.

you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers to pull him along, only he doesn’t budge.

“hang on a min,” and he tugs you back instead. “not quite ready to go, darling.”

and just like that you’re flush against his chest, tipping your head up as he finally leans down to press his mouth against yours without a hint of hesitation. soft and ever so gentle. you feel the smile growing across his face as he kisses you again, somehow slower this time, and you catch the faint taste of leftover whiskey lingering on his lips. it’s spicy and a little sharp but you don’t mind.

"there we go," he hums against your mouth, his thumb brushing along your cheek until it tugs on your lip, "not sure how i lasted so long without doing that."

the warmth radiating off him is nothing short of comforting. you soak it in as you nuzzle into his neck, just as his arms wrap around your shoulders and his lips graze the top of your head. in return, you slip your hands around his waist, give a gentle squeeze that makes his stomach jump with quiet laughter. he starts swaying you side to side, and for a beat, you almost forget it’s below freezing and that you should probably start heading back.

you shift to meet his eyes, chin resting on his chest as he closes the distance to kiss your forehead, the very small action still leaving you so breathless that your words barely come out.

“so, um… did you enjoy that?”

“i’d be an idiot not to. you’re a pretty good kisser, sweet.”

the snorting sound you make leaves you feeling a little embarrassed.

“smartass.” he always is but it doesn’t stop you from liking him any less. part of his charm really. “you know what i mean. dinner. y’know, the date we just had?”

“mmhmm. very much so.” his voice is sincere yet there’s that all-too-knowing evil smirk quickly spreading across his face. “even if your hot as fuck ex was there.”

your roll eyes to the back of your head as you playfully shove at his chest. honestly, you’re just impressed he at least waited until after to bring alex up.

"told you we didn’t date. and, well, you asked for my favourite place,” motioning vaguely back toward the bar. "sooo... it’s your own fault." 

"i know, i know. ’m just joking," he admits and then pinches your hip hard enough to make you jump, a quick little spark of pain that earns him a glare.

"just like it when you act mad. it’s damn cute. and hot."

you shake your head, taking it as your cue to turn and walk away before he can see the smile tugging at your mouth. you don’t get far, though. matty catches up fast, sliding his arm around your shoulders the second he’s beside you, tugging you in close to kiss the top of your head and keep you warm.

“not too upset to let me walk you home though, right?”

there’s absolutely no way you could ever deny him. even if your apartment’s only fifteen minutes away. you’ll take every single possible moment of his company, slipping your arm under his coat to wrap around his waist, hand pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. 

“c’mere, hun,” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you closer. “that’s better.”

you don’t say anything back. just lean your head on his shoulder, because all you can think about is how content you feel right now. content in that stupid, dreamy, beautiful way you wouldn’t trade for anything else in this world.

the street’s mostly empty, save for the occasional blur of headlights. the freezing air stings your cheeks, makes your eyes water, but you don’t care. not when he’s got you tucked into his side like this, thumb brushing slow, tiny circles over your jacket right where your arm meets your shoulder. and somehow, that makes you shiver more than the temperature does.

you pass beneath a dim streetlight and he stops, patting down the front and back of his pants. you peer over at him, confused, until he gets a cigarette out of his pocket yet frowns. “fuck, think i lost my lighter again.”

so you take it from his mouth without asking, sliding it between your lips. his brows shoot up as you casually dig into your purse and pull out an orange lighter. it clicks once, twice, and then the flame flickers to life. you take a drag before handing it back, cold fingers brushing his as he mouths a thank you.

"not sure what i’d do without you."

that earns him a shrug but it’s still all too difficult not to beam when he’s watching you like he’d indeed be lost if you were not there at his side. 

you keep walking in silence for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth. you scan the way his cheeks hollow when he exhales, the way he tips his head just slightly so the smoke curls up above him before vanishing into the cold night. and once again, you don’t even realize you’re staring until he catches you and knocks your hip with his.

“what?” his mouth twitches.

“um, nothing.”

“you’re full of shit.”

a gentle bump of your shoulder into his is met with nothing but laughter, his breath turning to fog as it hits the air. you pass the corner store, the alley where your neighbour’s cat always lurks, that one busted lamp post that’s been out of service since you moved. yes, it’s all familiar but somehow different tonight. calmer. sweeter. better.

but before you’re ready, the front of your home comes into view, way too soon, matty taking one last drag, eyes already scanning for somewhere to snuff it out.

"i got it," you murmur, plucking it from his fingers and walking up to your windowsill where your favourite ashtray waits. a few butts already there, some with faint smudged lipstick stains from days when you were perhaps waiting for him to show up halfway through his shift.

“don’t judge me,” you warn nervously because you never know how others will perceive your nicotine addiction.

“that’d be a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” he’s smiling when you glimpse back, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes shining bright.

you step back onto the doorstep and he follows, your arms sliding around his neck as you drag him close. you kiss. tender at first but it doesn’t stay that way for long as his hands find your waist, the kiss deepening with each second until your tongue slides against his and you taste the remnants of the cigarettes you’d shared minutes before. the lack of oxygen makes your head spin, but he’s the one to break away, panting as he leaves a few lazy pecks on your lips. neither of you get the chance to recover before you start to make out once more, the warmth of his mouth on yours enough to make you forget about the crisp breeze surrounding you.

“don’t want you to leave,” you mumble as he licks your lip.

“‘s that so?” 

you nod and he tries to kiss you again but misses, both of you laughing quietly until his fingers catch your chin, holding you still so he can do so just how he wants. quick, wet, and a little too much teeth, but entirely perfect in your mind.

“but it’s well past your bedtime, sweet.”

you shake your head as much as his grip allows.

“please stay.” you attempt to convince, tugging on his bottom lip because you know that makes him falter. perhaps a little desperate on your part but it’s worth a try. not that he seems to mind by the way he groans and squeezes your hip.

“i wish, darling, but i’ve got to be up stupid early for work.” yet he kisses you again anyway, none of his actions matching his words whatsoever.

“pretty sure i can manage,” you promise, forcing matty to slow down and consider your invitation, half lidded eyes nearly making you swallow it back because if this is how you react just from him looking at you–pulse thundering, breath faltering–asking him to sleep over might actually kill you. but guess you’d die happy. “much rather that than you leaving right now.” 

you exhale when that crooked, toothy grin finally spreads across his face. “are you sure sure?”

“yes,” you quickly confirm as you fish for your keys and unlock the door, “plus, i’m pretty certain someone else will be ecstatic to see you.” the door cracks open and, right on cue, your adorable little pup barrels through the gap, jumping straight into matty’s hands who’s already crouching down waiting for him. he scoops kevin up, peppering the tiny head with dozens of kisses, completely oblivious to anything else, including the way your heart just swells in your chest. it’s so disgustingly tender that you have to reach for your phone, quietly snapping a photo before the moment slips past.

“hey, little man, miss me?” his tone hikes into that ridiculous babytalk register you always pretend not to find charming. “just so y’know, your mum begged me to stay. what do we think about that, hmm?” he presses his head beside kev’s, the matching silver threads in their hair sparkling under the moonlight and both of them staring up at you with wide, puppy eyes, one surely more innocent than the other. 

you groan in mock annoyance but don’t say another word, mostly because you did beg a little. 

“and i’m about to change my mind if you don’t get in. i’m freezing. come on.”

matty stands up with kevin still cradled in his arms, walking over to get inside but leaning close to whisper as he walks by. “see, you’re fucking adorable when you’re mad.”

the smugness in his voice is almost unbearable. yet the flutter in your stomach is that much worse.

you shut the door behind you.

maybe it’ll be a long night.

or maybe not.

hard to say, because almost as soon as the coats come off and your shoes hit the floor, you end up on the sofa, matty carefully guiding you until you’re straddling his lap and his mouth is back on yours. within the four walls of your home, he’s able to run his hands all over your back, no thick layer of wool obstructing his way. they move effortlessly, tracing the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist before sliding up to tangle in your hair. he knows exactly how to coax all those pretty little sounds from you that make him crave more.

to someone watching–god forbid–they’d probably think you’ve done everything. that you’re already his. that this night’s just another one spent together.

but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

obviously, you’ve kissed. you’ve made out. in almost every room in both of your apartments, actually. backstage at his shows. once in the back of an uber on the way home from your favourite band’s concert, giggling between stops like two infatuated horny teenagers. you’ve napped on this very couch, arms and legs tangled, his breath warm against your neck. and on his too, where the cushions always smell faintly like his shampoo and cigarettes.

but honestly, never more.

not because the desire wasn’t there. it always has been. you just weren’t ready for the next step. not after the mess you crawled out of, the last relationship that collapsed into a fucking full blown dumpster fire, leaving you scorched and skittish, terrified of what letting someone back in might do to you.

but then he came. literally knocking at your door.

never in a million and a half years did you expect to befriend your better-than-good-looking mailman. the same one half your nosy neighbors openly thirst over, making excuses to check their mail twice a day just to catch a glimpse. yet somehow, he found you intriguing. enough to strike up actual conversation any time he saw you. enough to leave a note scrawled on the back of your hydro bill inviting you to his show last december. (yes, as it turns out, he’s a musician too because they just seem to be your type. just your luck.)

and that night, standing in the dimly lit venue with your jacket still on and your fingers half numb, you were completely mesmerized by this other life of his. the one where he doesn’t hold anything back. him on that stage, singing so loud and free it still echoes in your ears. and if you shut your eyes hard enough, you can still picture him moving with so much ease, so much swagger that it made you jealous to witness someone with that amount of confidence and not a single lick of shame. he was so unapologetically himself in a way that his uniform never quite allows and observing him like that made it impossible not to fall deeper. so when you finally kissed, it was all that much more dreamy and more than anything you’d ever hoped for, leaving you entirely and utterly breathless.

just as you are right about now.

his mouth is devouring yours, arms wrapped so tight around you that every inhale he takes presses into your ribs. his hands in your hair, tilting your head just right so he can bury his tongue in you. it feels so fucking heavenly. you cannot possibly stop and the thought of doing so is your single worst nightmare right now because in reality, you want so much more.

“need you, matty.”

“’m right here, baby,” he hums, “not going anywhere.”

“you know what i mean.”

his smile curves into the kiss, one last tender press of his mouth before he leans enough to observe if you’re truly sincere, hands sliding under your skirt to squeeze your thighs.

“been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

heat rushes to your cheeks before you can even pretend otherwise. because, well, he’s not wrong. you’ve been wondering for weeks now when the wanting would finally outweigh the fear and nerves. and as soon as you saw him enter the bar a few hours ago… so eager to always sit near. to make you laugh. to make sure you had a perfect time. and him looking so fucking beautiful on top of all that? you just knew.

“it’s true, isn’t?”

yes, matty. you’re 100% right.

however, instead of speaking, you nod, quickly ducking into the crook of his neck in a last ditch attempt to shield yourself from the relentless teasing you know is coming your way.

“oh, no hiding now, my darling.” his fingers find your chin, bringing your face back up to his. “not after you basically asked to sleep with me.” 

oh my god.

“you’re fucking impossible.”

“that’s fair.” his knuckles now skimming up your jaw. “only for you, though.”

“stop.” you playfully swat his chest, then stand to smooth your skirt and rake shaky fingers through your hair. 

“just come–” quite possibly the dumbest thing you could blurt out right now, noticing the way he raises his brow and tugs at his lip, doing his best to stop the mischievous grin from spreading all along his face.

“come where?” he shifts, elbow on his knee, chin in his palm, other hand idly winding a curl around his finger. “sweetheart, you’ll have to be specific. my pants? my hand? i’m easy.”

“for fuck’s sake,” you grab a hold of his wrist and tug him down the hall, heading towards your room, the only place in your home where he hasn’t spent much time yet. but you’re a couple steps away when he manages to slip in front of you, cutting off your path. steady palms find your arms, holding you just enough to stop you cold.

“hey. hey, sweet? look at me.”

so you do.

“i need to hear it clearly.” there’s not a trace of humour in his tone now. “are you sure about this? because i’m good to wait. as long as you need.”

“i know,” you barely whisper.

his thumbs sweep small circles yet you can feel them so clearly even through the fabric of your sweater. “just don’t want you doing anything because the mood’s right or whatever. or because you feel like you should. if there’s even the smallest part of you that’s unsure–”

“matty, i promise.” you confirm as quickly as possible, “i want it now.”

his hands continue to rub up and down your shoulders for what feels like an eternity, the silence so deafening you think you must’ve fucked it all up. all until that slow, oh so quiet exhale leaves him.

“then tell me again.”

“i want you.”

his mouth twitches trying not to smile. “need me?”

“need you. so fucking much.”

you swear an entire eternity passes by.

“then i’m yours,” he finally answers, forehead pressed to your own. “all yours, darling.”

relief hits so deeply your eyes water, but you blink it away before he can notice. instead, you link your fingers with his and give a gentle tug without uttering a word, guiding him toward your room, wearing your swollen heart on your sleeve.

your side lamp illuminates the space, casting everything in that cozy, amber light you always forget you love. it’s quiet, save for the subtle drag of fabric and the dull sound of your steps. you let go once you’re inside, glancing as he lingers there in the center of the room, eyes scanning your shelves, your photos, the tiny pieces of your life that make this your home.

what’s he thinking?

he keeps quiet, just takes a couple of steps and stops in front of a frame: the one with you standing barefoot on the edge of the old deck, sun low behind you, the lake just out of view.

“that’s up north,” you let him know, “i try to go every summer if i can. just to… get away for a bit.”

he nods with eyes still on the picture. “looks beautiful.”

you glance over at it with a smile creeping in. “yeah. it is. my happy place.”

“seems like it by the way you look in the photo.”

“i’ll take you sometime,” matty coming along for a summer trip is the one thing that could possibly make those holidays even better. “if you want.”

he looks back at you, a smirk unfolding across his face. “you’d want me there?”

“if you behave.”

“no guarantees, but i’ll try.” you feel his lips brush against your head right as his hand gives your ass a greedy squeeze. it’s just second nature by this point. he starts to relax into you, that now familiar weight sinking into your side, until his focus lands somewhere else.

“wait, you actually kept these?”

even the mere thought of disposing of the aforementioned note stack makes you ill.

“of course.” as soon as he started leaving tiny written memos within your mail, it was almost impossible to concentrate on work, daydreaming that when you flipped over some letter later on, you’d recognize his chicken scratch handwriting with some sort of cheesy quote or pickup line.

he lifts the bundle, thumb skimming the edges prior to opening the first one. a crooked heart and his scrawl: sorry i stare but you’re so fucking pretty. doesn’t hesitate to let you know it holds true.

“figured you’d throw them out after, like, a day.”

“never crossed my mind.”

he opens another one.

don’t bite your lip. i want to do that.

he snorts when he reads that one, but stops when he looks up and notices your lip tucked under your teeth, obviously. how could you not?

“is that how we’re playing now?” the notes get tossed back onto the dresser without much care because his other hand’s already reaching for yours. “come here, then.” he sits at the edge of the bed as he brings you between his knees. both hands rise to your face, thumbs grazing over your cheeks, and then one dips lower, hooking on your bottom lip, tugging it gently from between your teeth. the kiss that follows gets instantly sloppy to the point you can’t think straight. your whole body’s leaning into him and you don’t even realize it until you have to pull back just to breathe. you rest your forehead against his. you’re both silent, but your lips are swollen and your chest’s pounding and your blood is boiling.

“you good?”

“keep going, please.” your voice shakes, “don’t want you to stop.”

he huffs out a short laugh and pulls you right back in, kissing and biting until your lips feel more sore. then he moves lower, pressing his mouth along your jaw, then dipping to the side of your neck. his fingers are already at your sweater, slipping beneath the collar, tugging the fabric aside with impatient care. 

“gonna mark you right here,” he softly grins against a spot on your left collarbone. “all mine.”

you don’t even get a chance to answer before he’s sinking his teeth in and sucking on your skin. the sting makes you gasp, holding on to his shoulders as he keeps going, working the same spot until he knows it’ll bruise. then he kisses his way to the other side and does it all over again. it hurts, but that bit of pain feels so fucking good you only crave more. feeling how his teeth scrape your skin. the way his tongue follows after to soothe the ache prior to diving right back in. your hips now mindlessly swaying back and forth, getting so worked up and needy you wonder how in the hell you’ll manage to last long.

in this moment, all you recognize is that there’s entirely too much fabric between the two of you. so you curl your fingers into his hair, tug gently to get his attention, and pull him off with one last wet pop as his mouth leaves your skin. large hands are instantly on your hips, helping, guiding you to grind even though there’s no real relief between your legs. you lose focus entirely. get caught in the way he’s studying you so attentively that you forget what you were even doing. until his palms slip just under your top.

right.

you blink, inhale, and hook your fingers under the hem of your sweater, dragging it up slowly. the fabric clings a bit from static, catching awkwardly on the clasp of your bra. and you fumble a bit, sheepishly laughing under your breath and drawing a grin from him. not in a way that makes you feel stupid. it’s teasing, yeah, but still something kind there. perhaps even with a little pride glinting behind it.

the top clears your head and you drop it at your side, the cold air instantly causing thousands of goosebumps to bloom across your skin, every instinct screaming for you to wrap your arms around your chest to cover yourself yet you’re somehow able to keep it together.

it’s only him. you keep telling yourself. it’s only matty.

the handsome curly haired man who’s currently stunned, silently devouring you with hungry eyes, blown out pupils continuously examining you up and down. the first sound that leaves his mouth is somewhere between a gasp and a growl but it’s the look in those pretty brown eyes and the way his tongue drags across his bottom lip that liquefies your knees. 

you almost ask if he’s okay but his hands answer first, carefully settling just below your ribcage, fingertips beginning to trace the outlines of every tattoo he’s never known you had until now. and it’s fine. it’s absolutely, totally fine. you try to convince yourself. except your heart’s pounding so loud you’re pretty sure he can feel it under his touch.

his thumb drags along the vine curling down your side, follows it all the way to where it disappears beneath your skirt. and then his eyes find the constellation below the valley of your breasts, tiny dots and lines that only make sense when you pull back. “which one is it?” he wonders.

“lyra. it’s… long story.”

“pretty.” matty’s fingertips connect the stars right before his lips do, tracing the path in slow motion. every gentle kiss lights a small flare beneath your skin and you find it near impossible to not breathe in deeper with each passing second, dragging oxygen just to stay alive. 

your eyes shut immediately when those tiny pecks turn into open mouthed kisses, drifting over slightly right towards a chamomile flower underneath your breast and you can’t help but squeak when he traces the linework with the tip of his tongue.

“this one’s still fresh, isn't it?”

“sorta,” you gasp, fingers threading into his hair again, nails dragging lightly along his scalp. trying to focus. trying not to melt. “friend did it for me last month.”

“well, i like it,” he mentions, his nose brushing tenderly against the ink. “suits you well.”

he places barely there kisses on the petals, then a few more on the stem. there’s so much reverence and curiosity in every small action, it makes your tender heart ache. it’s embarrassing how fast your body betrays you. obviously you’ve wanted this, wanted him, but you didn’t expect to feel this way. like your chest might actually split open from how tight it is. you feel dizzy, a little lightheaded and wonder if he knows just how much he’s tearing you apart with even the simplest touch. 

and just as you somehow manage to gather a flicker of composure, he licks a single, thick stripe between your breasts, looking up through his lashes, the eye contact so damn overwhelming you shut your lids tightly in a poor attempt to steady yourself once again.

but that’d be way too fucking easy. 

“hey.” a thumb hooks under your chin, tilting down until your gaze snaps back to his. “eyes on me, alright sweetheart?”

you can only obey and do exactly as he says.

“good girl.” he praises, then trails his tongue up the same path, excruciatingly slow this time, enjoying every inch in front of him, dragging a pitiful, broken sound from the bottom of your throat. not that he minds. if anything, it makes him hungrier, continuing to savour the salt covering your chest, every now and then teeth grazing the tender skin along the way. and once he meets the hollow of your throat, he backtracks, mouth sliding down the centerline of your sternum until the lace of your bra interrupts the way. 

it’s then that you feel his fingers slither up your sides, his pleading stare asking for your approval to carry on. and you’re not entirely sure what gets into you, but instead of answering out loud, you take his hands in yours and guide them higher. until they’re cupping your breasts, a pressure so welcome it makes you buckle.

“yeah?” he teases as he’s already squeezing a second time, “you like that, don’t you, darling?”

perhaps the petty moan that leaves your lips is enough of a response, because he gropes over and over again, matty clearly enjoying every last bit of you crumbling down right in front of him, you growing endlessly desperate when his mouth brushes over the top of one breast in a soft peck, then another before switching sides. at first, it’s gentle. just lips. but his kisses rapidly grow sloppy, covering as much skin as he can. tongue slipping out and dragging over the curve of each breast. his hands never stop moving, alternating between grabbing and tracing along the edge of your bra, thumbs every now and then slipping beneath the lace.

not once have his eyes left yours, and you’re certain that if you closed your own, you’d still see them, burned into the backs of your eyelids, impossible to ignore. the control they have on you is so strong that when he raises a brow and asks if he can take it off your bra, you’re already releasing the clasp without thinking about it twice. and only when he slides the straps down your arms and sets the garment aside does his gaze finally drop, taking you in fully, staring, fingernails digging into your sides.

“fuck me.”

two small words and your chest rises too fast. your heart continuously pounding as you try to process the fact that this gorgeous man sits merely inches away, practically drooling at the sight of your bare chest. you want to say something clever, something to make you feel a little less exposed. but your mouth won’t cooperate. not a syllable comes out. especially not when his fingers start to move, trailing upward until both thumbs brush over your nipples until they harden under the rhythm of his touch.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.”

then his mouth is back on you. this time with nothing in the way. no lace, no fabric. just the full weight of his lips around your bud with the kind of pressure that makes your spine arch. he pulls off just long enough to let his breath skate across your skin, nose grazing the spot where his tongue had just been. and then he bites. not hard but enough to make you shake. sharp enough to snap your eyes open and find his already locked on yours.

“you’ve got the prettiest tits i’ve ever seen, babe,” lips brushing over you in another kiss, then another. “swear to god.”

his palms slide beneath them, lifting just enough for them to spill between his fingers. “wanna fuck them someday.” he lets them fall, studies how they settle before cupping them again. “wanna come all over them. make a mess of you.”

your brain short circuits. nothing but white noise and static, the need for that scenario to materialize so insistent, you shudder in his grip. you wonder if he will lick it off. if you beg soft enough, good enough, will he clean every inch with his tongue, until you are gasping and tearing up all over again.

but as much as you may wish for that to happen, it's just about impossible at this moment as he starts kissing lower down the valley of your breasts, dragging his teeth along and leaving a trail of raw skin behind.

when he reaches your stomach, he stops to mouth at your belly button, biting playfully at the softest part of your body, smiling into your flesh when you shudder from how sensitive it is. he doesn't say a word, only continues until his lips hover just over the waistband of your skirt.

that’s your cue to reach behind and tug at its zipper, not breathing in a single ounce of air as you undo the metal closure, matty mouthing over the area where the fabric begins to loosen until it pools at your feet, turning you into a mess of nerves once more because you feel extremely exposed in only your tights and thong. your situation not made any better as you notice he’s already taking off his shirt.

and as soon as the fabric comes off his chest, you know for a fact you’re so completely and utterly fucked.

bare torso, all lean muscle and tattooed skin that looks almost too perfect to be real. sitting on the edge of your bed. the exact spot where you’ve laid back more times than you’d admit, touching yourself to the version of him your mind conjured. only that portrayal was nowhere close because there’s no possible way you could’ve ever dreamt him up.

at this point there’s no shame in your stare, trying to drink up every single detail as you observe his chest rise with every inhale. you want to touch and kiss and so much more, but your body’s locked in place.

“still with me?” his fingers wrap around your wrist, bringing it to his lips to place a single peck on your palm. “just come ‘ere.”

he rises off the bed and instantly drops to his knees inches away from you, hands settling at your hips to keep you near. dark brown eyes stay on yours for a moment, pressing his face into the heat between your thighs. the warmth of his breath filters through the nylon, damp and sensitive where it’s now resting against you, making you shiver and your whole body tremble just as he leans his cheek against your thigh.

“smell so fucking good,” he nuzzles himself impossibly close to your core, “so lovely.”

you can’t speak. can barely comprehend. especially when he starts kissing you through the sheer material, so delicate at first, barely anything there, but with delicious pressure building after every single one.

“and already so wet, baby girl.” his lips seal over you, dragging his tongue over the soaked nylon, savouring every bit he can. “fucking love it.”

your thighs twitch. his breath alone is enough to make your whole being ache. he licks through the fabric once more and your hips jerk enough to lose your footing, causing your fingers to bury in his curls.

“matty…”

“words, sweetheart.” he doesn’t lift his head. just gives you another bold lick before mumbling against your cunt. “i’m somewhat good at following orders if you ask nicely.”

a broken sound slips out of you, hips pushing toward his mouth, all too desperate for some more friction, more of him, because at this second, you’ll take pretty much anything.

“please,” your voice now so thin it sounds foreign.

“want me to eat you out until you come all over my face?”

this time you whimper, because yes, you need his mouth all over you. but he waits, obviously wanting you to admit it out loud, giving you a light push by biting over the fabric, only to tug on it and let it snap back into place.

“please, baby.” your thighs squeeze together so tight it hurts. and it doesn’t matter what you do, you can barely catch your breath. “need your mouth on me.”

“good girl.”

and he doesn’t make you wait any more.

he stays on his knees, palms steady on your legs as he drags your tights and underwear down inch by inch, eager to unwrap you with all the care he can give. the elastic catches slightly on your thighs, but he quickly eases it off with his thumbs, pushing both garments past your calves and feet until they’re discarded to the side.

“oh, baby.”

his eyes fix between your legs, not letting his gaze falter as his hand fumbles to undo his belt, the clink of metal quick when he unzips his jeans. no way in hell do you dare peer down because you’re about to scream, now feeling overly flustered at the off chance that you won’t be nearly good enough for him. one million and one awful scenarios tumbling through your head that you nearly jump out of your skin when his fingers brush right below your hip.

“sorry–” and immediately every other syllable dissolves in your tongue, already cringing when you notice the placement of his thumb.

“sure you’re okay?” his teasing smile is growing by the second and you wish nothing more but for the earth to do you a solid favour and crack open to swallow you whole. “so…just like honey, huh?” 

your blood is suddenly boiling to the point that your entire body feels like it’s freezing over from head to toe. some embarrassing squeak manages to slip through your tightly closed lips and you about fall over matty when his tongue grazes over those three words inked on your skin only because your best friend dared you to do so.

“like the song, i assume?” he places another tiny peck over the linework.

unfortunately, yes.

nothing you can do about it, really. other than run your fingers through matty’s hair to try and not melt in shame. the tip of his nose now brushing over the ink as he hums along your skin, a gesture that you’d consider unoffensive from him… until you recognize that same melody he’s singing under his breath.

oh, fuck no.

you don’t even feel remorse when you tug on his curls harder than you’ve ever done prior, but he only grins in return, mouth pressing to your hip in another lazy kiss. “couldn’t help it.” then, much more quietly. “fits you quite nicely. you being so damn sweet and all.”

and before you can muster up an appropriate response, he shifts to place an overly wet kiss to your mound. then another, right over your warmth, lips trailing down until he’s at your entrance and his nose is buried between your folds, nudging against your clit. large hands find their home at your hips, keeping you close enough so he can dip his tongue inside you and drag it all the way up until it circles your bundle of nerves.

and fuck does it feel better than you could’ve ever hoped for.

matty immediately learns that you like it fast, his tongue working in tight, quick swirls that make your toes curl. only stopping to wipe his mouth against the back of his hand before he’s back greedily licking and sucking, staring up with dilated pupils that only yearn for more.

“want all of it,” his breath is hot against you, “every single bit of you, darling.”

his grip tightens, fingers digging crescents into your hips as he completely buries his face, traveling down your cunt to finally fuck you with his tongue. your legs tremble, your stomach clenches uncontrollably, and you're only able to stay upright because of his firm grip on you, one arm locked around your waist while the other is eagerly groping your chest, fingers squeezing with such hungry urgency you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing so. unbeknownst to you, he’s too preoccupied indulging in the most delicious taste he’s ever known.

you tug at his hair again, brushing it back just so you can watch the way his eyes flutter as he groans and starts thrusting faster, deeper, completely undone by your attention, the most indecent, sloppy sounds filling your room alongside his nearly devastating praises and your heavy moans.

“wanna feel you come all over me,” he breathes between strokes. “been dreaming about it every night.”

then he’s right back on your clit, tongue flicking relentless circles that make your knees shake until your hips jerk up into his mouth. when he bites down, just the tiniest pressure exactly where you need it, a desperate gasp rips out of you before you even realize.

for a moment, he sits on his heels to stare up at you, mouth shiny, chin soaked. meanwhile his thumb replaces his tongue, rubbing fast and steady, never letting your pleasure slip away.

“can you give it to me?” the combination of him being so greedy but kind almost makes you sob. “can you come for me, pretty girl?”

you somehow manage to nod. your inhale buried somewhere between your chest and throat, too far deep to make any coherent sound.

“s’ good,” and then he’s back on you with that desperate, starving mouth you know you’ll never stop fantasizing about. every bit all consuming that no one will ever compare even if they tried. making that familiar knot in your gut pull tight, tighter, too much too fast. 

until it breaks apart. 

you come undone, whole body locking up before the ungodly sensation travels through every nerve in your system. barely aware of anything except the static behind your eyes and the burn in your lungs while he continues licking, drawing out every last aftershock.

your legs shake, twitch uncontrollably with the remnants of your orgasm as he gently shifts to stand. his hands never leave your waist and thank god, because your knees are an absolute mess. you're floating. trying to blink your way back to reality when he leans in, pressing a peck to your mouth even though your lips are basically jelly and don’t know how to react.

dozens of kisses decorate your face. jaw. nose. the corner of your eye. a trail that leaves your cheeks impossibly warm as he gently guides you back, step by step, until your legs hit the edge of your bed. his touch stays careful as he eases you down, matty nestling between your thighs. his never ending path of kisses travels lower until he’s back at your navel. and then further to press one more kiss to your clit that’s almost too much.

“that was fun.” definitely an understatement. “and can’t wait to do it again.”

before you can respond, his eyes drop to fixate on your drenched, sensitive cunt that clenches when two of his fingers graze through your folds. “so fucking beautiful” and his hair sticks to your skin when he dips to lick, bottom to top, ending with a measured flick of his tongue to your clit that nearly unravels you all over again.

you’re overstimulated. barely holding on. gasping out the only word you know right now which is his name. you reach down and grab a fistful of his hair, dragging him until his mouth crashes into yours. the kiss is aching and uncoordinated, you moan slipping right between his lips as you taste yourself on his tongue. tangy and saccharine and impossible to pretend you don’t enjoy.

“fuck me,” you whisper against his mouth. “i want you, matty. please.”

“oh, i’m gonna, baby.” his response is immediate, “you don’t have to beg… unless you want to.”

your fingers are already scrambling for the waistband of his pants, tugging with just enough urgency to make it clear you mean now otherwise you might implode.

“so needy, my darling.” it wouldn’t be him, your matty, if he didn’t say something in return. and thank fucking god he does stand to push the fabric down his legs, your mouth gone desert dry when he’s left in only his underwear, already damp with precum stains that make your brain whirr. how you’re supposed to stay coherent at this point is a mystery, but you’re praying you can hold out because he’s now taking off his boxers. the cotton catching slightly at the tip, sticking just enough to make you squirm, before they finally hit the floor.

he’s thick, flushed red at the tip which is already glistening in the most delightful, entirely sinful way. this perfectly stunning sight knocking every bit of oxygen from your lungs, thighs pressing together trying to prepare, even though you know there’s no way it will help.

of course he notices your pitiful reaction, and it earns you that cocky smile. the one that always melts something inside. the one that silently says he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. none of it feels real. it can’t. there’s no reason someone like him should exist. but he does. and right now, he’s climbing back into bed, moving over you until his body settles flush on top of yours.

“hey,” he rolls his hips, once, twice so you feel him warm against your belly. “i’m gonna fuck you right. but first…” he leans in closer, eyes on yours, “…i need to see you come again. okay?”

you can only gasp because his fingers are on you before you can prepare. spreading you open and sliding in deep, two at once. none of his teasing this time. no torturous buildup. just a steady rhythm from the start, every thrust hitting the exact spot that makes you see galaxies of pretty stars.

you attempt to find his mouth but all you manage is to pant against his lips. your wrecked moans slip out between the slick, filthy sounds of his hand fucking into you just right, making your whole body shake. senseless arms barely able to hold onto him. it’s too much. it’s perfect. and it’s exactly what you needed. and when his thumb begins to frantically rub at your clit, you immediately come undone again.

tears blur your vision, trickling down when he carefully tilts your chin, and oh so kindly requests you look at him. you continue trembling when he draws his fingers out, only to bring them up straight up to your mouth.

“open, baby.”

you do. no hesitation as he steadily slides them in, pushing past your lips, clearly indulging in every single second. the way your mouth parts to take him, the way your tongue curls around his fingers. his eyes never leave your face. not when he presses deeper, not when he starts moving them in and out in steady strides as his other hand cradles your jaw, holding your face exactly where he wants.

"fuck, that’s pretty," his voice the most quiet you’ve heard that you’re not entirely sure if he meant for those words to be spoken outloud.

your lips stretch around his knuckles, spit beginning to pool when he presses down on your tongue, further suppressing the moans stuck at the back of your throat. delicious thoughts flash through your mind. how easily he could replace his fingers with his cock, how delightful it would be to take him whole, to swallow every last drop when he came so far down because you would have no other choice.

“good girl,” your two new favourite words barely audible through the mush that’s now your brain. “sweetest fucking thing.”

he leaves his fingers there a beat longer, watching the way your lips wrap around them, and when he finally pulls out, a thread of spit stretches between you before it breaks and drips down your chin. wet fingertips trail lower, tracing the curve of your throat, pausing when he reaches your chest to circle your nipple. steady spirals that make it harden beneath his touch until it’s ready to suck once more. you gasp, breath catching, and it takes everything in your soul to find your voice.

“matty, baby, please?”

he glances up, mouth still around your bud, the heat in his eyes downright sinful. “eager much?”

you confirm in the hope he’ll finally take some sort of mercy on you.

“come on, then,” his mouth lets go of your breast with an exaggerated pop. “tell me. why do you need it so bad?”

you hesitate, heart thudding one million miles a minute because what you want to say is: i love you. so fucking much. to the point that it scares you. you want to tell him how much every stupid, reckless, lovely part of him has rooted itself into you so completely you can’t tell where he ends and you begin. you want to say that the thought of anyone else getting to kiss him, touch him, make him laugh the way you do makes your stomach twist. it makes your skin go cold. it makes you feel like you might actually be sick.

instead all that comes out is: “because i want to be yours.”

and perhaps that’s enough because he doesn’t hesitate to shift up and kiss you again. “but sweetheart,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you already are.”

those words make your pulse skip. you whimper in delight, lifting up to kiss him, too fast, too eager. your teeth knock into his and he huffs a content laugh, thumb brushing your cheek. you make out for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, growing all the more desperate, until you’re half whining into him, actually begging now.

“alright, darling girl.”

your lips brush his, “just… slow at first. please.” you don’t mean for it to come out so quiet. “it’s been a while.”

matty freezes for a few beats and you notice as his whole expression softens in real time. “yeah?” he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “then we go slow. whatever you need, that’s what we do.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, pulling in just enough air to remain coherent. “promise.”

no single cell in you can hold out any longer, so your hand finds him and the instant you wrap around his cock, he hisses through clenched teeth, hips excitedly jerking forward into your closed fist.

“fuck,” his eyes flutter shut as you stroke once. then again, a little tighter this time. he twitches in your grip, and when you glance up, there’s the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes already heavy as they drop to watch your hand. he catches the way your gaze shifts. the way you lean just slightly, trying to sneak a better look. so he props himself up on one elbow, just enough to give you the view you so clearly crave. you lock on the sight of your own hand around him and the way his hips move with shallow rolls into your grip, just chasing whatever relief you’ll give.

“feels lovely, sweetheart,” his voice now a little hoarse between small, dream worthy moans that make your heart flutter. his head dips forward until it rests on your shoulder, joining you in watching you work him up as beads of precum pool at your hip. “don’t think i’ve been this hard in a long time.”

you keep stroking, slow, then adding a twist at the end that makes him mutter something under his breath. his abs tighten, body strung tight like a wire. every time your fingers slide down near the base and squeeze just right, he lets out another curse, more desperate than the last. it’s all so damn dreamy until he catches your wrist.

“alright, alright, baby,” his tone much more uneven than before, “gimme a second or i’m not gonna last. let me get a condom.”

but you shake your head, smiling a little. “i appreciate you being ready,” you admit quietly, pressing one quick peck at his nose, “but i’m on the pill,” head landing softly on your pillow, “so um.. yeah.”

matty goes motionless and brown eyes flick up to yours to make sure he didn’t just imagine what he heard. he mutters something, too quiet to catch, but his ears tint pink, and for one single second you’re pretty damn sure he blushes. you almost call him on it, almost make some smartass remark, but you don’t. mostly because he ducks his head, face pressing into your chest, lips brushing over one nipple, then the other in barely there, tiny kisses.

“you spoil me, you know that?” his words melting right into your skin.

his hand trails down your abdomen, until his fingers slip between your legs and through your folds once before easing two fingers inside you. testing, making sure you’re okay. he slots his body neatly above yours, one arm braced beside your head, the other keeping you nice and wet.

finally you reach down to wrap around him, letting you guide his hips into place. follows your touch. then leans forward and kisses your face.

“alright,” he whispers, more than gentle. “just breathe for me, yeah?”

and when his tip brushes your entrance, everything stops. your gasps. his hands. your hearts.

then with all of the time in the world around you, he pushes in bit by bit. you feel every inch of the stretch. it’s not painful, just much too intense. your walls pulse tight around him, and his brows draw together as he pauses immediately, sensing the change inside. you keep your eyes on his, trying to breathe through the pressure building between your hips. matty waits. holds off for another minute before he inches in again, one hand sliding up your side as your fingers clutch tighter to his arm.

“nice and slow,” he reassures, more like a reminder to himself than anything else.

you nod faintly, but your whole body’s tensing underneath him, breath caught too high in your chest. his weight shifts forward slightly, and his forehead rests against your own.

“talk to me.”

“just…” you manage through the tightness in your throat. “gimme a second. i’m okay.”

“not going anywhere,” he brushes his nose against yours, then kisses your mouth, trying his best to keep you grounded in this reality. “you’re doing so well,” he praises between pecks, hands trailing up and down your sides, keeping you safe. “feel so fucking good, baby.” he stays buried deep without moving, letting you adjust, letting your body catch up. you now hold on to his shoulders, gasping through the intensity while he kisses you again and again with the softest, most patient lips.

“tell me if you need to stop,” he mumbles barely audible against your mouth, “if we have to, that’s okay.”

“please don’t.”

he nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. one of his hands traces the curve of your ribs, thumb brushing comforting circles into your skin that let you know everything will indeed be okay.

another minute passes. maybe less. maybe more. who knows. but then your hips lift. just enough for your body to begin moving on instinct, seeking the relief it’s been craving this entire night.

matty feels the instant shift, allowing you to grind on him a few more times before he’s certain you’re ready. “that feel better, baby?”

your teeth find his bottom lip when you nod and it’s then that his hand slips under your thigh, holding you close, anchoring you in place as he begins to rock into you with a rhythm that feels just right. every movement is precise, studying the way your body responds and adjusting when needed. he’s so delicate with you, every thrust full of control as the wet, slick sounds between you grow louder, filthier, echoing in your otherwise silent room. it sends a flutter through your stomach that doesn’t let up. 

your hands slide down, needy fingers curling around his hips as a silent ask. you don’t need to say a word. he catches the signal in your touch, your pupils, the little shiver in your groans.

he leans in, nose brushing the shell of your ear. “want me to fuck you a little harder, sweetheart?”

“yeah… please.”

his pace immediately picks up, hips driving into you with more weight, but still with that same care behind every movement. watching your face, making sure every moan is pleasure and never pain. he pulls nearly all the way out each time, leaving you gasping, only to sink back in until he bottoms out, making you feel impossibly full with every mind bending thrust.

“fuck baby,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders now as your arms wrap tight around his neck. your legs attempt to close at his waist, but he holds them open, grinding in even deeper until your toes curl against your sheets, your back arching up to meet him. his mess of curls drapes over his forehead, strands of hair sticking to your own damp face.

and there’s the light drag of his chains, cool silver slipping across your chest, catching the heat of your skin, the delicious juxtaposition making you shudder. so alluring you can’t help but twist your fingers around the metal, reaching for something to hold on to as he fucks every single coherent thought out of you. a specially fast thrust leading you to accidentally tug on the necklaces, which obviously does something to him as it’s the first time his hips falter.

but he doesn’t stop. he leans in closer. pressing open mouthed kisses on the side of your neck. your palm slides up over his sternum to keep your balance, the chains dragging under your grip and you feel when he twitches inside.

“fuck–” he chokes, head burying into your shoulder as his pace stutters for the second time. “do that again.”

for some reason, you hesitate. perhaps nerves are getting the best out of you. but the way he pulses makes it difficult to ignore, fingers tangling within his chains to pull with more purpose and intention.

“don’t be shy,” he pants against your jaw. “tug on it, baby. c’mon.”

so you do. over. and over. every time his hips grind into yours, you pull, and it drives him absolutely mad. his sounds spill in a mess of moans and curses and breathless laughter all tumbling together that might as well be music to your ears.

then he thrusts harder, burying himself fully as he pulls you in for a kiss, voice breaking between your lips. “you’re doing so fucking good, my love.” 

and as such your entire world comes crashing to a stop.

you almost miss the next thrust, the next kiss, because your brain completely stops functioning after that. my love. not baby, not darling. my love. and maybe it’s nothing. maybe he says that to everyone. maybe he didn’t even mean to. but the two words bury so deep inside your gut that they are instantly turned into endless hope. you don’t dare ask, only tug on his neck, much sharper this time to keep his head nestled close to your chest.

“please,” his saliva now dripping between your breasts. “need you to fucking ruin me tonight.”

you whimper, legs shaking, heat coiling so tight in your belly as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin meeting skin so sharp it’s bound to replay in your head for days, week, months on end.

“god, you feel amazing,” he shakes his head between your tits and on any other occasion you’d tease, but not with the way his hungry eyes continue to devour you alive. “fucking perfect. look at you.”

your limbs can’t stop trembling underneath him, you barely keeping sane because at any moment you’re bound to break into shards, hoping to dear fucking god you’ll be able to piece yourself back together so this is not the last time he’ll make a beautiful mess out of you.

“that’s it, come on,” he knows there’s no turning back. “let go for me.”

“matty–” you gasp. “i–i’m–”

“i know. i know, baby.” how he manages to still move faster, you’ll never fucking know. “you’re gonna come for me, yeah?”

your hand tangles on the metal once more and the last thing you catch is his head tipping back, eyes rolling to the back of his skull, with that proud, devastating smirk growing bold.

“mine,” he growls. “all mine. you hear me?”

the unbearable tension in your gut finally snaps, ripping through you in a full blown wave that steals every bit of oxygen from your blood. you cry out, head falling back, his name tumbling from your lips again and again as you come. your body clamps around him, pulsing hard enough that he groans through gritted teeth and has to pull out immediately to keep himself from falling apart. 

your mouth stays open, barely able to process anything when you feel him stroke himself along your soaked, spent cunt. his tip drags from your entrance to your clit, over and over, each pass sending another jolt through your body, making your thighs tremble even as you try to keep sane.

you don’t know how long he does it. minutes, hours, a lifetime. but you're still shaking, still clenching around nothing when he nips at your shoulder so you can finally gaze back. “there she is,” a lustful mix of praise and pride, “my not-so-sweet girl now.”

exhaustion has nearly taken over your body that you don’t have it in you to quip back other than a meaningless “i hate you.”

“sure about that?” he rests on his forearms to brush the hair off your face, peppering you with a flurry of kisses that have you giggling and squirming in no time. “see. not true in the slightest.” his attack trailing down your neck now. “and with the way you were moaning my name…” he pauses to bite gently at your jaw, “pretty fucking sure you like me.”

you playfully roll your eyes, mostly to cover the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. but you’re not entirely ready to admit you love him outloud, so you just let it go.

“and i fucking adore you, my love.”

there it is again. that name. falling from his lips and sinking straight into your skin, making your whole body buzz and giving you a kind of courage you didn’t know you had until now.

“you sure about that?” you feed him his words.

he raises up at that, grin already creeping across his face as he leans in until the tip of his nose brushes yours. “i know so…” and then he takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours and guiding them down. until both are wrapped around him, feeling as he twitches the second you touch him.

“otherwise,” he breathes, eyes half closed, “i wouldn’t be so fucking hard right now.”

and then he starts stroking himself. 

your mind pretty much gone blank by this point to fully comprehend that your maybe-boyfriend is jerking off with your hand in his and you didn’t even have to ask. perhaps god is indeed real and you’ve been truly blessed because–fucking christ–the way he works your hand up and down is your bible definition of a deranged, holy experience.

his hips fuck into your grip, guiding you fingers to squeeze just where he likes. rubbing his thumb over yours so you can gather the precum at the tip and spread it on the way down. your other hand reaches up to brush the hair away from his face, to watch as his face contorts in pure bliss, lips finding your palm to kiss it and pull your thumb straight into his mouth.

now it’s your turn to observe. how his lips wrap around you, how his tongue moves. you press down just a little and feel the way his cock twitches in response. 

that’s more than enough. 

you slip your thumb from his mouth, matty making a teasing sound of protest, but it dies fast when you hook your hand around the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. his weight shifting so he’s now pressed over your stomach, joined fingers pumping him against your skin, leaving a warm, sticky streak that makes you shiver.

“you like that, babe?” he pushes his tip harder into your gut, dragging it to smear even more across your skin. “me marking you with my cum?”

and you don’t mean to squeeze him that hard, honestly, but the thought of him coming all over you flashes through your head so vividly that your whole body tenses. your hand tightens without thinking, and the sound he lets out is somewhere between a yelp and a moan, hips jerking forward into your grip.

you blink up at him, doe eyed, not fooling anyone. “sorry, baby.”

“you’re not,” he breathes out, half laughing, half fucked. “and you don’t have to be.”

“good.” and then you do it again, watching the way it pulls another sound out of him. only louder this time.

“fuck you,” he whimpers, voice cracking just a little before he smiles.

your jaw drops, mock offended but feeling bolder by the minute. “then why don’t you?”

this time he properly laughs, head falling to your chest mumbling something before looking up. “can i?”

you’d let him rail you without permission any day and he probably knows that by now. but the fact that he asks... it sends a warmth of excitement straight through your stomach, bursting like fireworks under your skin.

“yes, please.”

saying it means letting go of him, which feels borderline cruel. but if it means you’ll have him inside you again? guess you’ll make do.

his hand wraps around your wrist as you release him, bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles before he shifts over you, voice proud and warm against your ear.

“anything for my sweet girl.”

you don’t waste a second sinking into the pillows, expecting him to climb over you and take you right there. but instead, he shifts behind you, lying down on his side and reaching for your hips, pulling you back into him. guiding you until your spine fits perfectly against his chest.

“this okay?”

you turn your head and kiss him, nestling yourself back into him with a roll of your hips that makes him pull you in closer. one hand already reaching down to guide himself. but not before running his fingers through the mess between your thighs, using it to coat himself so he’s slick for you. he presses his forehead to the back of your neck and eases inside, bottoming out and filling you up perfectly all at once.

“good?” his breath warm against your skin.

you nod, unable to stop the small, excited moan that escapes your lips. “yes, matty.”

his mouth never strays far. kissing your shoulder, your neck, the spot just behind your ear. his hand snakes under your thigh to hook it up and over his, opening you wider for him, and you flush at the position. how exposed it feels because you’ve never felt so bare. he gives you a moment to adjust, kissing your temple with those lovely tiny pecks, whispering soft praises as he holds your leg steady, hips unmoving until your breath evens out.

“this is where you want me, yeah?” he groans, nose buried in your hair.

you shudder from feeling so overwhelmed. because there’s something about not seeing exactly what he’ll do which makes it that much more delightful. and you were right because when he starts to move, he immediately hits your sweet spot. the angle is perfect, knocking into you just so deliciously, sending a jolt through your entire body that has you reaching for a pillow, needing something to hold onto as he rocks into you over and over, faster each time.

there’s no point in trying to stay quiet. it’s hopeless. every thrust rips another moan out of you. mouth hanging open as spit drips down your chin, soaking into the sheets already ruined beneath you.

“shhh,” he murmurs against your neck, though he doesn’t really mean it. “you’re alright, my love.”

he brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ear to bite at your cheek, mouth chasing the sting with a kiss. his leg stays locked between yours, holding you open, keeping you in place so he can fuck you until you feel the pressure building again.

somehow, in some strange, matty-kind-of-way, you feel cared for. cherished. wanted in a way that has nothing to do with the sweat or the cum or the sex. because even while he’s fucking you hard enough to leave you shaking, there’s something so extremely gentle about it all.

“doing so good for me,” he murmurs, lips against your shoulder. “you feel so good, baby. gonna keep you like this. just like this.”

you grip the sheets tighter as you watch your knuckles turn white. he’s been holding back this whole time. you know he has. and now it’s finally slipping, and the thought that he’s unraveling because of you is pretty much everything.

“’m close, darling,” his voice is shaky now. “fuck. feels too fucking good.”

you reach blindly to find the back of his neck, fingers twisting in damp curls, tugging gently until he leans forward. and when he does, you turn your head just enough to kiss him.

it’s uncoordinated from the start, more desperation than anything resembling a proper kiss. you miss his mouth entirely, lips catching the corner of his instead, and you can’t help but laugh together, as you try again but still don’t quite get it right. you just need him closer. that’s all either of you want.

his hand tightens on your chest, palm kneading as his thumb swipes circles over your breast. the arm hooked under your leg moves until his fingers are between your thighs, rubbing at your clit with almost no rhythm. just chaotic, slippery pressure that makes your hips roll back.

“where do you want me to–?” 

you don’t let him finish. “inside’s fine,” barely able to get the words around the moan caught in your throat.

“are you su–fuck,” he buries himself deeper. “you feel so good.”

“fuck, yes,” no way you would not allow for him to fill you up since you’ve been craving it so much. “please, matty. please.”

“such a good girl,” his mouth brushing against your neck again, breath damp against your skin. “you’re perfect. so fucking perfect.”

you feel so closely as he completely starts to crumble. usually so composed and sure of himself when you’re with him, confidence dripping out of every pore. but not now. because at this moment, he’s grasping on to you like he’ll fall through the floor if he were to let go. palms frantically roaming all over your body, digging his nails and desperately squeezing every part of your flesh just to hold on to any crumbs of his sanity that still might be left. 

“i need to come, baby,” his voice cracks in the most beautiful, broken way that sends shivers through every vertebrate of your spine. “you feel so good. so nice and warm.”

he tilts his hips just enough to make you cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you whimper through his relentless snapping that borders on punishment. you can barely think, barely hold yourself up, barely form a single thought that isn’t him. because you’ve never been fucked like this. not even once.

“that’s it, sweet–sweetheart.” he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, then presses your palm down against your belly, right where you can feel him tremble perfectly inside you. “you’re–fuck–you’re everything.”

that’s when you feel his entire body tense behind you. the pressure building and building until he can barely gasp your name, hips stuttering as he finally lets himself slip over the edge, spilling inside and filling you up. he buries himself as deep as he can go, chest pressed flush to your back, every muscle locked tight. 

and the second his teeth break through the skin on your shoulder, that’s all it takes for you to follow.

you fall over that same cliff, letting wave after wave wash over your body and drown you in a sea of endless pleasure until your head is so lightheaded from the pressure.

neither of you say a thing for a while. just catching your breath and letting yourselves float in that warm, salty sea of afterglow.

you don’t notice you’re shaking until his fingers stroke gentle lines over your stomach, trying to ease you down. you don’t even realize you’ve started to tear up until he kisses the back of your neck again, a kiss that says i’ve got you. you’re safe.

you’re both a complete wreck of knotted hair and tangled limbs. slick with sweat and covered in that musky scent that screams nothing but sex. a beautiful, all-consuming, can't-get-enough-of-you type of sex.

when your breath finally evens out and your whole being stops trembling, he raises your thigh, fingers firm but sweet where they hold you. then he pulls back, easing himself out of you inch by inch and you groan the second he slips free. it’s not the pain but the way your body feels immediately empty without him. you clench instinctively, trying to hold on to the feeling, the warmth, the stretch of him. but it’s already fading.

his hand stays on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles as he leans forward to kiss your shoulder.

“still with me?”

“barely,” you whisper, managing a silly, tired laugh and tilting your head just enough to catch his gaze.

for once, he is undone. all mussed curls and flushed cheeks, lips still parted to get some extra air inside his lungs. there’s even something boyish in his expression, totally unguarded and sincere. 

he kisses your temple once more. then your cheek. then the tip of your nose.

“i adore you, sweet,” 

such lovely words that float inside your head.

“adore you too, matty.”

you admit it quietly, wanting nothing more but to unravel your tangle of emotions out into the open. but that’s okay. because he still smiles. eyes creasing just a little at the corners as you tuck a damp curl behind his ear.

“i’ll be right back, baby.”

“‘kay,” he half mumbles into your pillow, watching you through those pretty, heavy lashes.

last thing you want to do is move, but you force yourself to peel away with legs sore from pleasure. laughing under your breath when you finally stand because every inch of your being aches as you walk and stumble. your body is completely disheveled but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

the instant you shut the ensuite door and flick the switch, you blink at your reflection a few times trying to focus under the blinding light.

and you almost don’t recognize the love sick girl that peers back.

your skin’s dewy. your lips are plump. your chest is a constellation of candy coloured bruises. some blooming into a dark plum tone, others still raw pink from where his mouth lingered too long. your hips aren’t spared either. nor your neck. you brush your fingers over the countless marks, gasping each time you press into the tenderness.

you selfishly wish there were more. covering the entire expanse of your skin. one for every second he’s been inside your mind and by your side. it’s idiotic. you know that. but something about seeing yourself like this makes your stomach twist in the most intoxicating way. each bruise is now a memory. perhaps a kiss. a tight grip. or a loving bite. 

so mesmerized by the sight until you feel a wet trail drip down the inside of your thigh. you freeze for a bit before you gaze down at yourself being covered in his cum. it’s filthy. and kind of beautiful. how it glistens white. the way it dries on your skin. your brain floods with a thousand new dirty thoughts, none of which help you come back down.

you manage to exhale and reach for a towel, running it under the warm tap before bringing it between your legs. you clean yourself up, flinching a little from the sensitivity but still grinning way too much. you try to be quick (you want to get back to him, after all) but just as you’re finishing up, there’s a quiet knock at the door.

“hey, darling… may i come in?”

you nod before remembering he can’t see you, so you scramble to wipe your hands dry and open up. and once you do so, you promptly forget how to breathe all over again.

he’s still naked. not even bothering with his shirt or underwear, just standing there in the doorway like he wasn’t buried inside you less than fifteen minutes ago. and even though you try not to, your gaze can’t help but wander.

“fuck,” you gasp, unfortunately too loud for him to hear.

matty ducks down to catch your sight, that sly grin already forming on his face.

you roll your eyes. “shut up.”

“didn’t say anything,” his smirk widens as he steps closer.

you don’t move, just barely step to the side, heart pounding as he brushes past you into the bathroom. he kisses the top of your head, mumbling something that gets lost in your hair, and it isn’t until he turns and cups your face with both hands that you realize he’s waiting for your full attention.

“sure you’re okay?”

he leans in as you nod. then kiss him and to absolutely no one’s surprise you get carried away by his taste and that now familiar warmth of his skin flush to yours. but before you get so lost in it you wonder… 

you pull away, pressing one more peck to his lips. he goes in for another, and it’s hard not to giggle when he nearly stumbles as you’re no longer there to meet him halfway.

“um, wait.” you signal with your finger to hold on just a minute. before he can ask, you’re already out of the bathroom, bolting toward your bedroom, pulling your bedside drawer open so fast it nearly falls off the track. your fingers fumble through the clutter of hair ties and dead batteries until you find what you’re looking for. you don’t want to waste another second to go back, but you hesitate just outside.

and when you do gather your bearings to enter, you do so as matty is cleaning up, which almost makes you walk right out because you really can’t witness another moment of him touching himself tonight.

so you take one deep breath and turn the lock.

he’s washing his hands when he looks in the mirror and sees your reflection, raising an eyebrow when he clearly spots the way you’re awkwardly holding something behind your back.

“so…” he tips his head toward you, eyes scanning your face before flicking to whatever you’re clearly not showing. “gonna let me see what you’ve got there or am i supposed to guess?”

you shift from side to side, second guessing yourself, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek because maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea. but eventually, you do pull your arm around.

“wait,” his eyes landing on the camera in your grip, “if you tell me you’ve been filming the whole night–”

“matty…”

“what? you pull out a camera after sex and i’m the unreasonable one?” 

“stop!” of course you’re already flustered for very obvious reasons. “it’s not like that. i just want a photo.” you pause, “if that’s okay.”

he nods, pretending to be serious for exactly two seconds. “sure. for… artistic purposes.”

you bring the device up to your face, start to frame the shot. hands steady, heart not so much.

“so what? you want me to touch myself or what am i supposed to do here?”

“matthew.”

“what!” he throws his arms a little, clearly attempting not to laugh. “just trying to get it right. no one’s ever asked to take a photo after we’ve fucked.”

you lower the camera just enough to stare back.

“so no hands on my dick, then?”

you narrow your eyes, choosing silence. but you’ll make sure to keep that in mind for another time.

matty lifts his hands in surrender, muttering something under his breath as he leans back against the counter, palms bracing either side.

“this okay, ma'am?”

and you don’t answer. because you simply can’t. your tongue is stuck between your teeth, eyes drifting down and back up again, catching every detail now that you can see him under a brighter light.

“sweet?”

you blink and shake your head, snapping yourself out of your trance. camera back to your eye, looking through the viewfinder. and you don’t even have to adjust much. 

mind bending gaze locked straight into the lens. tight lipped smile curving just enough. scratches on his torso that are entirely your fault. hair messier than usual and necklaces twisted all out of place.

you press the shutter.

there. picture perfect.

you wind the roll as you lower the camera, take a couple steps forward, and rise up on your toes to kiss him. just a soft peck. nothing more.

“thank you.” for the photo, yes. but also for the most lovely night. for fucking you senseless. and honestly just for existing and making you whole.

“anything for you, love.” he cups your face and brings you over to kiss him, humming sweet nothings into your lips. then his arms are around you, wrapping you up, holding you close. a greedy hand finds your ass, gives it a firm squeeze followed by a playful slap that makes you yelp and squirm. he laughs against your cheek, and before you know it, he’s guiding you to face the mirror, your back pulled flush to his chest. one arm draped loosely over your shoulders, with the other tight around your waist.

his mouth finds your neck again, kissing all over, pulling you in even closer. chin now resting safely in the crook of your neck, both of you studying your reflection.

you smile brightly. you can’t help it. his hand moves to your side, rubbing soft circles over the marks he left on your hip, skin still warm from his teeth and mouth.

“pretty,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours in the glass.

you realize the camera’s still in your hand, pressed lightly against your side. and why the hell not? you lift it again, bringing it to your face with one hand while your other holds onto his arm around your shoulders.

“wait.”

you think he’ll pull back, but he only brings his arm from your shoulders down, hand very casually cupping your breast. “there. that’s better.” of fucking course.

you snort, shaking your head as you press the shutter. “obsessed with my tits already,” you place the camera down. “aren’t you?”

“me?” he takes another handful and leans in to plant a big smack on your cheek, leaving a wet spot that he rubs away with his palm. “never. was just trying to keep you decent.”

you bite your tongue but he very clearly sees the cheeky smile forming at your face.

“which,” he adds, “something tells me it’s not your first time…”

you shake your head, still smiling.

he growls, pretending to bite your shoulder, both of his arms squeezing you tight.

“gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart.”

he finally lets go, but not before giving you another kiss to your temple. “c’mon,” he tugs you along into your room. “need you to show me where to find those photos so i can have some very good dreams tonight.”

—

sweet. sweet. hey, sweet.

you make a small sound, still halfway asleep because for some rude, inhumane reason you’ve just been pulled from the most loveliest slumber.

“you awake?”

sure. if you can even say that, eyes still half lidded, heavy with not enough rest to feel alive.

“just didn’t wanna leave without saying bye,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth that brings you a little further out of sleep.

“what time is it?”

“five.”

“jesus,” you groan face down into your pillow. “you always get up this early?”

“told you i did,” he combs his fingers through your hair. “but you never believe me.”

“i didn’t think you meant this early.”

“letters don't deliver themselves, darling.”

you can’t help but let out another exhausted groan, reaching over to switch on your bed side lamp just in time as matty’s blindly searching for his clothes. before too many dirty thoughts start growing inside your mind, you get up to find a hoodie, one that’s long enough to pass as a dress. you toss it over your head. no pants. no underwear. it’s too damn early to care.

when you glance back, he’s watching you from the edge of the bed, chin in hand, that lazy, satisfied smile back on his face as he lures you to stand between his legs, bringing back all the nice memories from just the hours prior. he rests his hands on your thighs and tilts his head up, not letting you wait much longer to kiss you again.

“morning, baby.”

“hi,” you whisper back, smiling into his mouth which turns into a laugh the second he slips his palms to grope your ass. you roll your eyes, but you kiss him again. and again. trying to keep him with you for as long as you can.

unfortunately, there’s not much you can do other than follow him to your living room, trying not to tear up when he crouches beside kevin’s bed to give the drowsy pup a few belly rubs.

“you better take care of her, yeah?”

you open the door, the winter air immediately crawling across your skin and covering your body in goosebumps from head to toe. he teases you under his breath. something about this being what you get for being stubborn and not just staying warm in bed. but he’s already holding you tighter than he has all night.

you can’t help but bury your face in his chest. “you sure you have to go?”

“unfortunately.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there for a second too long. “but i’ll be back before you even miss me.”

you tilt your chin up, “promise?”

“i mean, i do have to deliver your mail.”

you laugh, shaking your head, then tug him down by the collar for one last kiss.

“i adore you, matty.”

he brushes his nose against yours. “right back at you, sweet.”

then you quietly watch as he heads down the steps, turning once, twice, to blow you a kiss that you catch midair to hold close to your chest. 

you don’t go back inside right away.

you wait, barefoot on the cold floor, until he disappears around the corner into the night. only then do you glance up at the sky. still scattered with millions of stars twinkling bright.

⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆

moodboard here, too

you want to lay down, so you grab your pillow you keep by the couch (you often nap there because it’s cozy and love falling asleep while listening to music) and place it on his lap with your head on top gazing up at him. matty looks down as he takes a sip of the wine and you can’t help but notice as he grins, an expression you know all too well by now.

“don’t act like this is the first time i’ve had my head between your legs.”

“what now? can’t your boyfriend get excited seeing his girl down on his lap?”

“alright. that's fair. but can your girlfriend know what dirty thought is rattling inside that filthy mind of yours this time?”

he downs the last of the wine before putting the empty glass on the coffee table.

“just made me think of when i was a horny teenager and i’d use a pillow to get off.”

“oh my god matthew. what the fuck?” you sit up to face him at eye level and he just snorts back with one of his stupid laughs.

“you asked and i told you,” he raises his hands up in innocence, “didn’t do anything wrong this time.”

“you’re fucking unreal.”

“oh, c’mon love, humour me here.” he hugs the pillow against his chest trying to give you his best puppy eyes. “you mean to tell me you never used one to make yourself feel good? isn’t it like a rite of passage for every 13 year old?”

it was obvious that the blood rushed straight to your face as you felt your cheeks grow warm. and he instantly noticed, too.

“see?” he gives you a quick peck on the nose. “i knew it.”

“oh, fuck you, matty.”

“you know i’d let you anytime, sweet.”

your hands cover your face in embarrassment but it doesn’t last long as he pries them away to eye you closely.

“or you can watch me fuck this instead,” he motions towards the pillow, “if you want.”

you were utterly and properly numb as soon as those words left his mouth. of course you wanted to watch him. who were you kidding? not him, nor yourself. and you didn’t even get a chance to answer before matty was already lifting his shirt off, doing it in one swift motion just like he knew drove you crazy.

"i swear i can't with you."

"and you don't have to, i'm gonna do the work for you. jus—hey, what the fuck was that for?" you had yanked the pillow from him, smacking him across the face, but he just laughed it off in the end. he knew you were flustered and didn't want to press too hard.

he grabs your wrist and pulls you close so he can kiss you, tasting that familiar mix of cheap red wine and cigarettes. "you sure you are okay with this?"

you just mumble a quiet yes against his lips, the confirmation he needs to start undoing his belt and it's not even ten or twenty seconds later that his shorts and boxers are pooled at his feet. the image of your boyfriend sitting naked in the middle of your couch is not a new one by any means, he's fucked you there countless times already, but you've never seen him like this, with your (favourite) pillow covering his already hard dick.

"c'mere love." he gets you to sit next to him, your left side flush against his body. you swear a part of you dies as his right hand takes your left one, bringing up to give it a kiss before placing it flat on the dark blue cushion, now pressing both of your palms against his cock. this gives him enough friction to start rutting his hips against the pillow, moving at an agonizingly slow pace to keep you from freaking out. and to tease you, of course.

but it doesn't take long before he pushes you hand down further, needing more weight against him. "right there, 'kay love?" and you obey without a second though, feeling as his hard cock moves against your palm. you carefully watch when his head falls back on the sofa, his fingers shifting through his curls when he turns to stare at you.

"gotta say it feels better than i remembered."

you bite on your lip to swallow your proud grin and using that moment to press harder on the pillow.

"shit."

matty moans and groans between laughs, his hips not missing a beat as they continue to rut against the pillow. you can tell he's getting close as his breaths get more high pitched and as he squeezes your thigh trying to keep himself grounded in reality.

"that's it, baby."

he brushes your hair away from your face so he can devour your lips, praises spilling from his mouth into yours.

"always so good for me."

it's only a few minutes later that his legs finally start trembling and you can clearly tell the moment he comes against your pillow, feeling it tense underneath you.

"okay, stop stop st—" you instantly take your hand away as he became overstimulated with the pressure on his now sensitive cock. he likes being calmed down by you kissing his neck so that's exactly what you do.

"well, you've now ruined my pillow." you nip at his collarbone. "thanks so much for that."

"not the first one, love. and hopefully not the last one."

-----

i like to think this is him that night <3